


The First Instance

by Tired_College_Student_Writing



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Injury, Existential Crisis, Immortality, Shooting, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tired_College_Student_Writing/pseuds/Tired_College_Student_Writing
Summary: It wasn’t the first instance, but yet it was.





	The First Instance

It wasn’t the first instance someone got hurt in the madhouse they called home. It wasn’t the second or third or even thousandth time.

‘Accidents’ happened almost hourly in the Office, everything from explosions to paper cuts. So when a gunshot sounded from within the walls of the studio, no one batted an eye, simply going to see what mess needed cleaning up this time, Doc with his medical bag, Google with the cleaning supplies. 

They quickly moved to the side so Doc could work when they arrived and saw The Author prone on the floor, a pool of blood growing under him from the bullet wound in his side. 

Bim cleaned his nails with a file, waiting to go back to shooting his episode of Disc of Riches, as Dark dragged Wilford to the corner to talk. Google listening in with malicious pleasure, ready to clean the mess as soon as the Author rose. They waited for the Doctor’s magic to fix their passed out colleague. 

Only Google glanced over when he saw Doc grow pale, white magic sparking but not connecting with the downed ego. Bim looked up when he saw the medic grab the Author’s wrist desperately. Dark cut himself off midword when he heard Doc swear and flip the man over, hands flying to his chest. 

“What’s the problem?” He asked moving ever so slightly forward. 

“He has no pulse and my magic refuses to help!” Doc snapped, compressing the author’s chest with practiced ease, “I think his spleen exploded. If I can’t get a pulse back then he’s gone.” 

They all stood up straighter, “What do you mean gone?” Bim laughed shakily, “I thought we couldn’t die here?” 

“Tell that to Author and his dead fish impression.”

Wilford let out a laugh at the dry wit as Google knelt down, ripping the buttons of the Author’s shirt instead of wasting time. 

“Clear.” He growled giving Doc only a split second to move his hands away before sending a shock wave through the older ego. Back flew Doc’s hands to Author’s neck giving a shake of his head to Google before another shock was given. 

Another check. No pulse. Again.

Another check. No pulse. Again.

Another check. No pulse. Again.

Another check. No pulse. Ag-

The longer the cycle went the more fearful Bim became, pacing back and forth, eyes firm on the scene in front of him. 

The more the body twitched under the raging electricity, the louder Wilford’s laughter became, hands twisting in his hair, mind flying to red silk instead of blood, a crisp white toque blanche taking the place of the head mirror, a black vest in place of the blue tee. 

Dark’s aura grew like a storm over the ocean, churning and growing with each passing second. He could practically feel the hands on his chest trying to make his heart beat, feel the desperation in their touch as he didn’t move. Were those Celine’s hands on Damien’s chest he remembered from right after he died, before she was possessed, or William’s desperately breaking the DA’s rib cage down to try and get a pulse in the mangled body that he remembered?  

Bim opened his mouth to say something but The Office groaned, like a tree in a great wind, almost like They were crying out, drawing all eyes towards the ceiling.

They glanced downwards again only to freeze, ice filling their veins.

The Author and all the blood he had lost was gone, not even scarlet traces on Google’s and Doc’s hands and pants remained.

“What the he-”

Dark didn’t even let Doc finish his sentence before he surrounded all of them in his shadows, grey heart beating faster then he thought possible. It was almost like how he remembered, almost just like the many nights he watches, unable to not observe as the actor as he…

The shadows thinned dumping the four egos into the cramped bedroom in the oak cabin.

There lay the Author, passed out but breathing, shirt gone, revealing the wound on his side a pearly white starburst.  

The amalgamation felt like he was going to throw up.

Doc was on his patient faster then humanly possible, white glow flowing into the living man, “He’s fine… as if he’d never died in the first place. His spleen is gone, however…”

They all stayed silent, but it wasn’t had to notice how pale both Wilford and Dark had grown, how the demon’s aura wiped across the walls, how the report’s mustache bleed ever so slightly black.

“You both don’t seem surprised,” Bim called, wincing under the four combined glares, “What? I wasn’t the only one thinking it.”

“I’ve… We’ve seen this before,” Wilford spoke slowly voice clipped and even.

“It… wasn’t pleasant,” Dark replied, refusing to meet any of their eyes,  “and the wounds never fully healed, they lived with the pain forever, unable to die.”

“So this isn’t just nature or being egos,” Google hummed, “This is some other force at play.”

“It’s the Manor,” Wilford mumbled, making Dark’s aura crack loudly through the room, flooding it with blue light.

“Manor?”

Doc’s words made another crack sound, this time bathing the room in red.

“He meant The Office,” Dark snapped, voice pitched high, echoing harshly, “the Office has magic past being sentient and the ability to move objects around, They also have the power to bring anyone that’s ever stepped foot inside the property line back to life, but at a price.”

“But he’s not in pain,” Doc spoke, “You said the price was pain and the wound never fully feeling, but it’s healed and he’s not in pain!” 

They fell silent, sharing a look. 

“Perhaps it’s different now… Last time this happened everyone involved was human,” Wilford spoke, “Even us.” 

Other three egos stared at the pair, unsure of how to respond, unwilling to break the silence. 

“Doctor care for the Author,” Dark finally said turning from the scene, “Google, Wilford, back to work. Trimmer, King seems to have taken a liking to you, I leave you with the task of informing him what happened here.”

“What do I even tell him?” The game show host asked, hands nervously fixing his tie. 

Dark didn’t pause in his walk out of the building as he said, “Tell him… The first instance of our immortality has made itself known.”


End file.
